


This Chapel of Ritual

by zombieutopia



Category: GHOST - Fandom, Ghost (Swedish Band), Ghost B.C., the band ghost
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anti-Christ, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bondage, Character Death, Choking, Don't expect a happy ending, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Multiple chapters, NSFW, Necrophilia, No Fluff, Oral Sex, POV shift, Public Sex, Raising the Devil, Rape/non con elements, Ritualistic Sex, Satanism, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Threesome - M/F/M, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Voyeurism, Worship, anti-fluff, heavy references, just went where the story took me, kind of, plot heavy, point of view change, posession, smut heavy, sub/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombieutopia/pseuds/zombieutopia
Summary: The clergy and congregation gather for a night of worship and sin. An initially unwilling supplicant takes part in the final ritual and finds out how dark her soul really is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not all tags apply to each chapter but they do apply to the story as a whole. 
> 
> I don't have a beta reader unfortunately so comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! I try to edit and clean things up with each new chapter posted but that means details change reguarly.
> 
> This story is broken down into chapters due to its length but isnt really written to be segmented. Sorry if it seems clunky because of it.

“Motherfu-” She hissed. Splintering pain exploding up her leg as her shin forcefully met cold stone. The vice-like fingers digging into her upper arm yanked backwards, countering the fall, and continued to pull her onward. She stumbled up the step and struggled to regain her footing under the brisk pace. Being dragged forward, blindfolded and arms bound behind her back left her feeling unbalanced, almost dizzy.

Without so much as a pause in their step, the sound of large wooden doors being pulled open echoed directly before her and she was hit with a stifling wave of heat against her exposed skin. The thick, heavy scent of incense and wood smoke filled her lungs, making her cough. The fingers clawed viciously into her flesh as they ascended several more steps then jerked her to an abrupt stop. The cessation of movement brought her focus to the deafening silence around her that was broken only by the popping roar of fire and her own ragged, rapid breath. She attempted to stand absolutely still in the silence but couldn't suppress the shivering that rose up from her core and rolled through her limbs.

The hand released its death grip on her right arm and slowly skimmed over skin and cloth before it came to rest gently on her right shoulder as a second hand found its place on her left.  
“Kneel.” A deep husky voice commanded. She startled at the closeness of the voice and the intimate tone. Before she could contemplate either compliance or resistance, pressure slammed down onto her shoulders forcing her knees to buckle under the weight. The rough impact scraping skin from both knees. She managed to bite down on the gasp that bubbled forth upon contact with the floor. The pressure continued to bear down on her shoulders as the person circled around her.  
“Now...I do not want to see you move or hear a sound from you. Do you understand?” His voice was close enough to feel his breath on her neck, but there was none. She hesitated. Abruptly a hand left her shoulder and strong, calloused fingers gripped her face under the jaw.  
“Do you understand?!” His voice was louder, huskier, less intimate. There was a strange hollow, muffled quality to his voice that she couldn't understand. She winced and nodded.  
“Good.” This time she could hear the smirk in his voice. His hands disappeared. Her shin and knees and arms and wrists all ached and throbbed from the rough treatment. She clenched her teeth against the incessant shivering. The oppressively thick heat was overpowering the cold that had seeped into her bones but fear and adrenaline kept the trembling alive.

It had happened so fast.  
...

Elyse pushed her way out of the stuffy concert venue onto the cool dark street, her head still buzzing with energy. She navigated her way through the crowd mulling about the sidewalk and made her way down the block. She pulled out headphones as she walked and hit play on the album that she had just heard live and music immediately began blaring in her already ringing ears. A flutter of unfulfilled excitement gnawed at her stomach as she walked. By the time she reached the dark doorway of the bar she was halfway through reliving the setlist. The doorman nodded to her smile and waved her inside without even bothering to check ID. She was by no means a regular but she frequented the nearby concert venues enough - this place always her destination post-show - that the staff recognized her easily.

She popped a single ear bud out as she made her way to the bar. The slow pulse blasting over the bar’s speakers clashing with the energetic guitar solo blasting over hers. The place was dimly lit with mismatched furniture strewn about haphazardly. The music consisted of various styles of goth-industrial-metal genres - usually played in the most discordant combination possible. It just felt like the perfect place to exist after a long night immersed in music and sweat. She was always energized after shows. Something about the pounding of live music vibrating through your chest and being in the middle of a crushing, writhing crowd was sensual and intoxicating. Concerts usually felt like a release. But tonight she was wound up and restless.

She walked up to the bar and caught the eye of the bartender as she sat on a black leather and chrome barstool. He smiled his mischievous smile and winked a startlingly blue eye at her. He finished handing a beer to a rather tall hipster and walked over. Leaning over the bar, he quirked a double studded eyebrow.  
“My Mistress Elyse. What brings you here?” He drawled out.  
“Blaine.” She responded, glancing at him as she ripped out the second earphone and stuffed them in her bra along with her phone.  
“The usual I assu-mm.” he trailed off as he saw her shaking her head.  
“Vodka dirty.” His jewelled eyebrow rose a little higher. He nodded and started grabbing the supplies.  
“Starting with the harder stuff right off tonight. What's the occasion?” He asked as he poured olive brine into the shaker. Her casual shrug morphed into a languid stretch.  
“I just got out of a fucking amazing show…”  
“As always.” He cut in, accentuating his statement with a vigorous throttling of the martini shaker. She nodded and continued.  
“But a really amazing show and just feel like I need to do…..” She paused, unsure of how the sentence ended.  
“Someone?” Blaine offered. She laughed.  
“That’d probably burn off some energy, yeah. I was just gonna say ‘do something’.” He chuckled and handed her a large frosted martini glass. She took a long sip and bobbed her head in satisfaction.  
“El….” He began but a customer across the bar - some fratboy who looked painfully out of place - began waving his arm to grab his attention. “Ah shit. Be right back.”  
“Mm.” Elyse replied as she took another drink.

She shifted in her seat as she sipped at the strong, salty liquid. The fragmented mirrors that hung on the walls - looking ever so much like someone took a hammer to them at some point in their past - kept throwing jagged bits and pieces of herself back at her. Her pale skin looked even paler against her heavy charcoal eye shadow and flowing black handkerchief dress, whispy ends brushing just past mid-thigh, that accented all her curves.

Looking away from her distorted reflection, she twirled her lip ring absent-mindedly as she watched Blaine mix drinks. Maybe she’d go home with him this time. They’d spent months shamelessly flirting with one another. She knew he’d say yes without hesitation if she were to ask him. She shook her head and sucked her lip ring between her teeth. It just wasn't the right time. She didn't want to spoil whatever they had going on with a casual fuck.

She downed the rest of her martini and extracted her phone from her bra. She pulled up a text and punched in a quick message.

_Hey. Can I come over tonight?_

She put the phone down and gathered up her long silver white hair, damp and tangled from the show, and tied it up with a clip causing the indigo tips to stick out haphazardly. She went back to watching the chaos of movement around her. The bar was busy tonight. She recognized several faces from the concert but no one she knew. Her phone buzzed with a reply almost immediately.

_Of course! I'm not home. Meet you in a couple hours._

She clicked the phone off just as Blaine made his way back to her.  
“Fuckin busy night tonight.” He exclaimed. “Want another?” He pointed to her empty glass.  
“Sure.”  
“So where are you heading tonight?” He asked as he took her glass and began mixing the drink. He acted casual but she could tell he was looking for an opportunity. She paused just long enough to almost reconsider her decision and to make him sweat just a little. A wicked little smile touched her lips as she watched him peek at her over his shoulder as he dumped ice into the metal shaker.  
“I’m going to head over to Alex’s tonight.” She finally replied. He turned around to face her and gave her an incredulous look.  
“Didn't you break up with her recently?” He asked bluntly.  
“Several months ago. And technically we mutually decided to not be in a relationship anymore. But yes. Doesn't mean she is opposed to me coming over for some fun now and then.” He rolled his eyes and handed her the drink.  
“You’re horrible.” He stated, shaking his head.  
“I know. But that's why you like me.” She quipped back and bit her bottom lip. He gave a sharp laugh followed by an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.  
“What am I gonna do with you?” He joked as his looked around the bar.  
“Hmmm...well…” She began but quickly trailed off as she noticed his eyes fix on something behind her. His face gradually losing all humor, growing cold and serious. His eyes refocused on her. He looked worried.  
“El…you seem to have an admirer.” He gestured over her shoulder with a nod as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the prep table behind him.

She turned and looked over her shoulder. At first she wasn’t sure who he was referring to. The small bar was uncommonly crowded; people lounging on couches, standing and chatting in small groups between tables, and sitting on nearly every surface available. After a few seconds scanning the crowd, the stillness of him caught her eye.

He sat at a small table near the back wall by the door. Two other men shared his table, both leaning forward over their half finished beers seemingly engrossed in a fervent conversation. He lounged back in his chair, at ease, silently staring in her direction. She knew the exact moment his eyes shifted and locked with hers. The pent up energy coiled in her stomach suddenly welled up and forced her take a deep, steadying breath against it. Several seconds passed and a slow, sensuous smile spread across his face as he continued to simply hold her gaze. Abruptly he broke eye contact and turned his attention to one of his companions. With what looked to be a few terse words, he stood from his chair and gave her one last glance accompanied by an almost imperceptible nod in her direction. Grabbing his leather jacket from the table he made his way out of the bar, leaving his companions scrambling to gather their things and follow.

“El…...El….Elyse!” She shook her head and turned back to Blaine. “Who the fuck was that?” He looked more than a little worried at the exchange. She took a drink from her glass.  
“No clue. Never seen him before…... But I gotta go.” She finished off her drink and bounced off her bar stool.  
“No, Elyse...at least wait a while.”  
“Mm-mm. You worry too much. Besides Alex is expecting me soon. I'll see you tomorrow.” She patted herself down making sure she had everything and threw a twenty on the bar for her drinks.  
“You’re seeing another show tomorrow? Don’t you ever rest?” At his question she leaned over the bar and kissed his cheek.  
“Nope.” She said as she walked away.

She stepped out into the crisp night air and stood under the building’s overhang for a moment. Light rain splashed against the sidewalk as she contemplated the cheapness of the bus versus the comforts of a cab. Pulling out phone and earbuds, she hit play on the album again and with a sigh began walking towards the bus stop a few blocks away. That wanton restlessness still knotted tightly in her stomach, she lit a clove cigarette and took a long drag. This was the old district of the city; littered with monolithic stone buildings, neon lit hole-in-the-wall tattoo shops, underground clubs, and abandon warehouses. Although never the busiest area, there were still people lingering about despite the late hour. Harsh city sounds inserted themselves into the quieter lulls in the music as she walked; car engines roaring to life, people talking, tires hissing over asphalt in the rain. A vibration buzzed against her chest. She pulled out her phone and swiped it open to see a text from Alex.

_Im home early. Eta?_

Before she knew what was happening, hands encircled her wrists from behind and wrenched her arms behind her just as a thickly gloved hand clamped down over her mouth. She heard her phone clatter to the ground and disappeared. She should scream. Why wasn't she screaming? But she couldn't seem to bring one forth. The hand over her mouth painfully crushed her lips into her teeth. Her heart thundered in her ears as her wrists were bound and a thick black blindfold was wrapped around her head and tied off tight.

A hand pressed into that back of her neck, increasing the security of the pressure over her mouth, and began to pull her sideways. The stunned paralysis fell away in a rush. Too late, she hoarsely yelled into the thick gloved hand and thrashed, attempting to twist away. Their hold on her didn't even budge. The heavy click of a car door opening before her proceeded as her head being yanked back and down as she was guided into a car. The vehicle smelled of stale cigarette smoke and swayed under the weight of several others getting in after her, doors slamming shut behind them.

The car jostled her around as it jerked into motion and rapidly accelerated. The hand fixed over her mouth disappeared and she took a deep desperate inhale in an attempt at another scream but fingers deftly wrapped around her throat, effectively cutting off her air. The pressure continued to slowly increase until her breath was little more than a soft rasp and her head began to swim. She tried to swallow against the urge to cough, panic rising. After several seconds the hand slowly released her throat. She took a great, struggling breath and obeyed the message: be quiet.

They all sat in silence for a long while. The car took several turns and drove at what felt like rapid, reckless speed. The only thing she could focus on was the discomfort of sitting bent forward, arms awkwardly twisted behind her and the feeling of being brushed up against on either side. She tried twisting and contorting her arms to loosen the cloth around her wrists but there was absolutely no give. Her struggles doing little more than cause her more discomfort. She stopped struggling but couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She was panicking and she knew it. She intentionally paused and drew a few slow, deep breaths in an attempt to clear her head a little. Panicking wasn't going to help.

A soft click and slow, flowing electric guitar pulsed out of the speakers. She heard a soft groan to her right that obviously wasn't meant to be heard. The slow, seductive ballad seemed to take over and supplanted any thoughts she had. Her breathing quickly calmed and synced with the rhythm of the vocals. The lightly accented masculine voice had an almost unwelcomed soothing effect on her.

When the song began to loop into its third play there was an exasperated huff, almost inaudible, next to her followed by movement and shuffling. Soon the song was replaced by another - heavy drums and electric guitar boomed into the quiet, making her jump. The volume increasing until she was surrounded by the sound. Her artificial calm evaporated leaving nothing but panic in its wake.

Several songs passed. Splinters of pain needled through her shoulders due to long immobility and the awkward position. Her ass and legs were numb from sitting. The music clicked off and allowed silence to overwhelm the car.

“Time.” Stated a soft voice from the front of the car, shocking her from her petrifaction.

She jumped as hands from both sides suddenly grabbed a hold of her. One hand rested hard against her collarbone, pushing her into an upright position and back into the car seat, as others tugged and yanked at her dress. She felt cloth rip and the glide of cold metal as scissors made quick work of the flimsy garment. She tried to jerk away but the hand on her chest pushed harder, pinning her in place. Soon the remnants of the dress were removed. Her heart was racing again and all control gained over her breath: gone. The straps of her bra were cut away and it was stripped from her as well. She tried struggling but the pressure on her chest and throat was reaching crushing levels. As gloved fingers slid beneath the sides of her black lace underwear, she forgot the earlier warning entirely.

“No! Please...please don't…” She begged, a whole new kind of panic rising. A hand left her right hip and was shoved against her mouth once again. The hand on her chest still crushing her into the car seat as she felt the glide of the scissors as her underwear was snipped into pieces and stripped away. In the struggle, the edge of the gloved hand shoved into her mouth had moved up just enough. She pulled her mouth open and bit down as hard as she could. She expected the hand to be pulled away as her teeth sunk in. She clenched her jaw, biting down even harder. Instead she heard a low, guttural moan as the hand remained in place. She swallowed down a sob that tried to claw it way up her throat and tried not to react as her stockings and knee-high boots were removed.

Once she was fully unclothed, the hand released their hold on her. Before she could fully process this something was roughly forced down over her head, careful not to displace the tight blindfold. She felt thin cloth come to rest on her shoulders and had a brief glimmer of hope that they would untie her hands to get her arms into the clothing. That hope was quickly dashed as they thread the cloth through her arms and secured a series of buttons on either side by her hips.

She sat shivering in her new attire. She could tell by the exposed, breezy feeling that it barely covered much of anything. The soft hum of tires on asphalt switched to the crunch of gravel with a jarring thunk. After several minutes of nerve-wracking bouncing, the car began to slow and finally crawled to a stop. The engine cut out.

A few seconds of complete silence before multiple doors popped open simultaneously and the vehicle shook from the weight being relieved from it. She twisted her head around to either side as if she might be able to see what was about to happen. Still, she was surprised when she felt fingers roughly grab ahold of her right upper arm and dragged her from the car and into the icy rain. Sharp gravel dug into her tender feet as she was jerked a couple of steps to the side. She heard other vehicles grind over the gravel near by and doors being opened and shut in multiple directions. She shook and shifted her weight, her right arm and shoulder being inactively lifted upwards, as they stood in the freezing drizzle. Each drop felt like ice leeching deep into her skin.

“Go.” The same muffled, almost lilting, voice that had commanded the others. Suddenly she was being rushed forward before she had time to understand what was happening. After several heavy steps on the gravel it felt like she was walking on knives, so the stone floor, for a few brief moments, felt like a welcome comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

The wooden creak of doors being brusquely opened and the loud pound of numerous footsteps traversing around the room broke her from her thoughts. The shivering had subsided in the heat and quiet but her heartbeat remained at a breakneck pace. She wanted to sit, to stretch, to find any possible way to be comfortable but she resisted the urge. Inaudible whispers echoed around her. Hissing pops from multiple directions announced the renewal of the thick cloying scent of incense. Despite the quiet hush that enveloped her there was an inordinate amount of whispering, shuffling, and the padded sound of footfalls. She rocked her weight a little back on her toes and relished the minor respite on her knees and calves but couldn't hold the position for very long. She shuffled her knees as she leaned back forward on them. Every joint was screaming at her. The discomfort was near overwhelming and drowned out her fear.

Goosebumps crawled across her arms and legs, cold seeping down her back. She sat very still in the sudden, heavy silence. All sound of movement beyond the fires had completely ceased. Her uneven breath and pounding heart roared in her ears. She waited for several hour-long seconds straining to hear anything at all.

Just as she began to believe she had been left alone by some magnificent serendipity, she heard it. A faint pulsating whisper. At first just a low suggestion of sound building slowly with each spoken word. The chant had a song like quality to it that made it flow and ebb as it grew in both strength and volume. Hundreds of voices chanted in perfect unison and echoed back at them.

“Il Padre Il Filio et lo Spiritus Malum Omnis Caelestis Delenda est Antichristus Il Filio de Sathanas Infestissumam”

Each time they reached the end they circled back to the beginning again. Her every nerve was raw as they chanted the verse in a continuous rhythm. She sat up as straight as she could and slowly moved her head from side to side, listening to the voices that seemed to surround her. She was far too overwhelmed to consciously acknowledge the fucked up turn of events.

She yelped as fingers snaked through her hair and grabbed a fistful near the scalp. With a slow demanding pull she was hauled to her feet. The pain of it brought tears to her closed eyes under the cloth. She rose up on her toes trying to lessen the pressure, wavering on her feet as she attempted to find balance. The hand continued to steadily pull up and back. She arched to accommodate the unspoken demand only to lose her balance and stumble a full step backwards, her body making solid contact with his. She instantly pulled away but another arm slid around her waist and slammed her back into him, her arms pinned between them, the back of her head pulled tightly against his shoulder.

“I thought I made it very clear that you were not to move or make any noise.” He whispered in her ear in his muffled, husky voice. The same faceless voice as before. He jerked her head a little. “You did both.” He growled. Effortlessly lifting her off the ground, he dragged her forward a few paces and placed her back on the ground. The powerful chanting now seemed to be accentuated by a rise in quiet whispers and gasps all around her. The grip on her hair loosened. His hand trailed down the nape of her neck and slowly traced the bruises along her collarbone with a thumb. His touch was almost gentle, almost comforting. The hand around her waist slid away for a brief pause before being replaced and pulling her tighter to him. Something rigid and angular pushed against her head above her ear just as she felt warm lips barely graze the side of her neck. She jumped at the contact which elicited a quiet snicker in her ear. The hand on her collarbone glided up over her skin and came to rest over her throat.

His warm breath tickled against the nape of her neck. The hand at her waist urgently pulled aside the thin cloth and seized her slim hip with his bare hand. A traitorous heat spread throughout her core as he lightly dragged his teeth against her skin. She found herself leaning into his touch and a part of her was slightly horrified at her own response. The hand around her throat gently tightened as he pressed against her, a small moan escaped her throat. She felt that tightly coiled, restless energy rekindle within her. She squeezed her eyes tight against her own response and gulped air shakily.

And then he was gone. Leaving her standing, swaying in place, on her feet with no bearings on her surroundings. The chanting pulsed loudly in her ears. Sweat trickled down between her breasts and down her legs in the stifling heat. Fear mingled with unwanted desire as she stood shivering in the void.

His hand reappeared at the base of her neck, gripping hard, and swiftly removed her blindfold. She blinked in the dusky light and waited for her eyes to adjust. The room was dim. The only illumination came from bonfires blazing in several immense fireplaces pouring smoke out into the cavernous room. It resembled a large stone cathedral with stained glass windows towering above towards the ceiling. Their images not of heavenly light and righteous angelic forms but of fire, torment, and sin. Before her, down a flight of shallow stairs, knelt a faceless cloaked congregation, their voices rising as one.

Before she could fully take in the eerie scene she was spun around to face the same direction as the crowd. She found herself staring into the face of a silver demonic mask. Thin and angular with sculpted hair and curved horns. Deep azure eyes watched her from behind the mask.  
“Kneel.” He stated a second time. This time she followed the instruction without hesitation and flushed with the implied eroticism. He stared down at her a moment longer as if waiting. She bowed her head, eyes on the ground, as he moved to stand on the step behind her. Looking to her left and then slowly to the right revealed five others kneeling, all bound, bowed, and dressed in the same revealing shift she wore. Five nearly identical demonic guardians watched over them. She noted the marble stone altar, pale white with grey veining and alchemical symbols carved deeply into the stone, they all knelt before.

“Rise.” A thundering female voice cut through the chanting. Elyse went to lift her head towards the quavering voice above. She found her head swiftly pushed and held back in place for a moment. The sound of many people standing echoed against the chapel walls. “We have summoned you all here this night …” Silenced rang out in her drawn out pause. “For a divine cause! We are summoned for His Unholy Fiend! Now celebrate the END!” Her shrill voice boomed. If panic and confusion hadn’t reigned in her mind, she might have laughed. The theatrical delivery seemed both comically out of place yet perfectly menacing in context.

“Belial! Behemoth! Beelzebub!” The congregation’s single voice rose up again, this time stark and powerful with each word. “Asmodeus! Satanas! Lucifer!” Slowly the reality of the situation settled over her. She shivered. The original chant quietly began again but this time remained at a moderate level.

She could hear whimpers and stifled sobs to her right. She closed her eyes and attempted a steadying breath. When she opened her eyes again, head bowed to the floor, her gazed didn't find the dark grey of stone but the deep black of silk robes.


	3. Chapter 3

Elyse froze. The black and emerald cloth rustled across the floor as the person paced slowly before the line of kneeling supplicants. The urge to lift her head was strong but the fear of doing so was stronger. She squeezed her eyes shut and released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Over the chanting cacophony a powerful, growling voice addressed the assembled worshipers. There was no pause in the repetitive intonation from the crowd. She couldn't hear his words as the whimpering coming from her right increased to wracking sobs. The sound did nothing to help her own panic. She fought it back and opened her eyes to look at the woman next to her. Her natural black hair was limp and tangled. Dark bruises shadowed her shoulders and arms. The short black shift she wore - that they all wore - barely fit over her curvy hips. A long silver chain with a delicate crucifix pendant still hung from her neck.

Curiosity got the better of her. She turned her head minutely to her left and stole glances at the other four. One woman and three men knelt with her and the sobbing catholic woman. There didn't seem to be any commonalities they all shared. Their ages seemed to range widely from teenage to middle aged and all expressed varying degrees of terror, panic, or dead eyed resignation. One seemed like he could have been a well off businessmen while another could have been a high school student, although being stripped of their clothing and accouterments made it difficult to tell for sure. It certainly wasn’t religion that brought them together. The sobbing woman bore a catholic cross while Elyse didn't believe in any god.

“Our fallen angel vexed was banished from the sky! Recite now from the text, pray for all to die!” The growling voice commanded from above, his voice thundering over the the excess noise within the room. There was a lilt to his thickly accented voice that reminded her of the voice from the car that commanded the faceless hands into action.

_“Our Father,_  
_Who art in Hell,_  
_Unhallowed be thy name,_  
_Cursed be the sons and daughters,_  
_Of thine nemesis,_  
_Whom are to blame,_  
_Thy kingdom come,_  
_nemA!”_

The ringing voices of the congregation, the muffled voices of their ghoulish guardians, and the deep voice of their leader before them - all voices within the chapel rose to recite the prayer, coming together as one.

The catholic woman began frantically whispering a prayer of her own in a language Elyse didn’t understand. She heard a few other whispers and sobs along their bowed line. She kept her eyes solidly on the floor before her. Silence unexpectedly reigned around them. The insistent muttered prayers beside her continued in the absence of everything else.

His robes whispered across the ground as he turned and walked slowly towards the praying woman. Elyse watched the silky cloth brush against her knees as he passed her by. She remained completely still and waited with her head bowed.

“Silence her.” His voice was calm and sounded almost amused as he made the demand. There was swift movement from behind her and the woman’s prayer was interrupted by a muted cry. Elyse looked over to see the silver faced ghoul pulling the woman’s head back by a black cloth gag that now covered her mouth. He tied it off and shoved her roughly forward once again. Before he straightened, he stole a glance her way and found her watching the interaction. Some heated emotion flickered across his dark blue eyes but with the mask she couldn't interpret it. Without any further communication he resumed his post standing on the step behind her.

Elyse’s gaze lingered on the terrified, gagged woman for a few seconds more before her eyes shifted, unbidden, to the robes resting against the ground before her. Fear and adrenaline fueled excitement - or anxiety, she wasn't sure which - buzzed through her veins. She took an unsteady breath as her eyes flicked up to the face that glowered down at her. His face was not the one she expected. Deeply lined and painted skeletal he looked stern, menacing…powerful. His extravagant papal robes draped about him, revealing a slim frame underneath instead of covering it up.

Her eyes met his and electricity ignited in her core. His mismatched eyes - one light green, the other pure white around the dark pupil - instantly brought her mind back to the bar. Before she could think further he flicked his fingers in an “up” motion and hands grabbed her upper arms on both sides, hauling her to her feet as he held her gaze. He maintained eye contact as he flicked his hand out in another gesture and the others were dragged to their feet as well. The crowd began their chanting once again. Adding a soundtrack to their terror.

She slowly turned her head and watched the other captives be dragged to their feet. One of the men struggled against his demonic captor as he was manhandled into a standing position. He was roughly the same height as the silver masked demon and quite fit.  
“Get your fucking hands off of me! Let me fucking go you assholes! Fuckin let go!” His outburst received no more of a reaction than a gag roughly secured over his mouth. The ghoul handled the young man seemingly without effort.

She could feel the Dark Pope’s eyes on her, travelling over her barely covered flesh, through the whole spectacle. She fought to suppress a shiver she felt building at the base of her spine. She bit the inside of her cheek, hard, trying to control the urge. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her tremble under his gaze. After a moment of blankly watching the others shiver and stumble, her eyes wandered back to his and confirmed his attentions had not wavered. A dark smile spread across his harsh face before he finally turned his calculating stare to the others.

The Dark Pope spread his arms in a welcoming gesture before the now standing, and silent, supplicants. He slowly walked down the line of them again looking at each face one by one with close scrutiny. None of the others met his gaze but played the part of terrified captives well. The first man - the middle aged man with a tidy business haircut that frosted grey at the temples - earned no more than a slow passing glance and brief disinterested nod. The tall silver masked ghoul behind him took a step forward and grabbed the man by the throat, pulling him securely against him. The older man grimaced at the close male contact and the tall ghoul ground up against the man even harder in response.

The gagged young man next in line didn't even earn a glance. The Pope simply flicked his hand in a dismissive manner as he walked by. The kid began yelling into his cloth gag just as the ghoul standing behind him grabbed the man by his hair and yanked him backwards. The ghoul nuzzled his silver mask into the man's neck for a few moments who quickly became still and silent.

The next two in line received longer and more earnest inspection, the man seemed to be favored slightly more of than the woman, but both were awarded with a final nod and a ghoul grabbing ahold of them. The gagged catholic woman to her right was ignored completely but the ghoul standing behind Elyse moved in behind the woman again and took a firm hold on her neck and around her waist. His hand slid under her shift and Elyse’s stomach churned.

The realization hit her that all five of their masked guardians were occupied, each holding one of the captives. Except her. She paused and slowly looked around trying to puzzle out if not being chosen was a very good thing...or a very bad thing. Droplets of sweat ran down between her shoulderblades. Then she felt it again - the flutter deep in her stomach of restless, coiled energy. Despite the renewed dread successfully clawing its way up her throat, she shifted her gaze to her right and found his mismatched eyes staring down at her once again.

She was certain she would drown in those eyes.

His eyes held her in place. She felt immobilized. By fear, by apprehension, by self-preservation... by feelings and emotions she desperately tried to smother deep inside. A wet, raw, ripping sound assaulted her ears from either side followed by several choking, rattling gasps. Elyse winced, inhaling sharply, as her face and arms were splattered with a warm, sticky liquid.


	4. Chapter 4

In a state of mild shock, Elyse looked slowly up to meet the mismatched eyes staring intently back at her, watching for her reaction. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears matching the tempo of the endless chanting. The urge to turn her head, to look at the source of the blood that was now running down her skin, was powerfully strong but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She knew where it had come from. Her stomach heaved and roiled as she listened to the gurgling choking sounds and watched the Dark Pope before her break eye contact to turn towards the altar behind him.

She blinked as sweat diluted blood began to drip into her eyes. She pulled up against her restraints again, the frantic need to wipe away the thick liquid mounting, causing spikes of needling pain to lance through her shoulders. She could feel the skin under the rough bindings chaff and her fingers tingled from restricted circulation. The restraints only seemed to tighten further as she struggled.

She watched as the Dark Pope turned around to face her once more and with a purposeful intensity, held up a tarnished silver chalice retrieved from the altar towards the ceiling as if to show it to the assembled crowd. After a brief, uneasy moment his eyes flicked away down the line to his right before gracefully walking in that direction. She fought against her ragged breathing, trying to fight against the impulse to track his movements and the nausea creeping up her throat.

Panic (and some morbid sense of curiosity) finally won over instinct and she found herself leaning slightly forward to watch him casually stroll over to the first ghoul in the line.

This time she couldn't hold back the dry retch.

The four silver-faced ghouls to her left were no longer lewdly restraining their captives, they were holding onto their corpses. Each held a thin silver blade still deeply embedded in their victim’s throat. One of the bodies continued to weakly twitch and gurgle as their blood seeped out over the ghoul’s hand. Blood was everywhere. Splattered over the pale stone altar and pooled on the floor in thick puddles. As the Dark Pope approached the first in line the ghoul savagely ripped the blade from the businessman’s throat which promptly renewed the spray. She watched in numb horror as the dark pope held up the chalice to the seeping wound to catch some of the carmine liquid. The moment the chalice was removed and the dark pope took a step to the next victim in line, the ghoul summarily released his grip on the body and allowed it to collapse to the floor with a heavy thud.

The process was repeated one after the other in quick succession with each dead sacrifice; blade removed, blood collected, and corpse thrown to the floor like so much trash. After each body was casually disposed of, the ghoul would simply clasp his hands behind his back and stand at attention, watching the Dark Pope make his way down the line.

He swept past her without so much as a glance in her direction as he moved on to the catholic woman to her right. She couldn't bring herself to turn her head and watch it all again but she couldn't prevent hearing the wet swish as the blade was removed. She winced, eyes squeezed shut, as another spray of liquid splattered across her face. She swallowed back a rise of bile. She, unfortunately, reopened her eyes just in time to watch the body fall forward, head cracking loudly against the corner of the altar on its way to the ground.

She was staring with morbid, stunned fascination at the now grossly misshapen head of the dead woman when all five ghouls converged on her. Her surprised shriek cut through the din as they swiftly seized her as one - their hands everywhere at once -and all but carried her right to the edge of the altar before slamming her, face down, across the flat stone table. Her ribcage instantly exploded with pain at the force of the impact and she struggled to take a desperately needed breath. Without the use of her arms she could do little more than kick and thrash against them. Her foot successfully impacted with something solid yet soft and she heard a muffled curse behind her. More hands and pressure were applied and soon she could barely breathe, let alone struggle.

Realizing that she was only succeeding in making her situation worse, she tried to relax under their grip and focused on just getting enough air. As the mindless panic was gradually beaten down, she found that in the struggle the shift she wore had come unbuttoned on one side and impersonal hands now gripped her bare back, leg, and ass while holding her down. A deep flush of heat spread throughout as she fully comprehended the situation she found herself in; completely unclothed from the waist down, legs spread and held in place, bent over the stone table with a crowd behind her. A pathetic, helpless whimper escaped her throat.

Cloth brushed against her inner thighs as someone stepped between them. She shuddered and did all she could to not panic further. ‘All she could’ did not prevent her from involuntarily jerking away and testing their hold on her. She noted with slight relief that at least the crowd wouldn't be able to see her anymore. Someone tugged at her wrists and she cried out at the grinding in her shoulders. They tugged again and her wrists came unbound, circulation rushed back into her hands as her arms dropped to her sides on the slimy marble. She wanted to roll her shoulders but couldn't. She wanted to push herself off the altar but couldn't.

Once her hands were out of the way, calloused fingers gripped her hips roughly - squeezing slightly - and slowly dragged against her skin as they slid over her thighs and ass before they went to unbutton the final few buttons that somehow had managed to stay intact.


	5. Chapter 5

The hands that had pinned her down abruptly disappeared. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Elyse took a deep breath and pushed against the marble in an attempt to muscle her way off the table. She didn’t want to fully admit to herself that there was no chance she’d be able to actually get away, but the thought buzzed in the back of her mind nonetheless. As if in confirmation, before she had really even started the movement a hand gripped her left hip and firmly pushed her down into the stone. Fingers roughly scraped against the nape of her neck as the collar of her shirt was seized and yanked backwards.

The cloth constricted against her throat forcing her into an arched position, head raised. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as another wave of panic washed over her. The urge to cough, to breathe, to thrash and blindly grope for the cloth that completely cut off her air were the only thoughts racing through her mind as the pressure mounted behind her eyes. Losing any semblance of control she twisted against her tormentor. Her efforts prompted another strong yank on the collar.

Something deep inside her clicked. Broke. _She wasn’t going to be leaving this place._

She looked up into the Dark Pope’s dissimilar eyes and felt an overpowering wrath ignite in her chest, coursing through her veins and burning away all trace of the terror that had previously consumed her. A complete silent calm settled over her and the tension in her body eased. She saw a flicker of surprise flash across the Dark Pope’s eyes as her demeanor visibly changed. The ghoul standing between her legs gave one final tug on the shirt and the cloth ripped in half. She fell the few inches back down onto the table, half catching herself with her hands as she took a deep shuddering breath. The calm, cold fire burned deep in the pit of her stomach.  
“Fuck!” She coughed hoarsely.

All five ghouls stepped forward and snatched at her arms and legs, intent on moving her but the Dark Pope held up a hand silently commanding them to stop. She caught her breath faster than she expected and watched as the ghouls retreated back a half step, eyes flickering between her and the Dark Pope. He leaned down with casual grace bringing his face level with hers. She lifted her eyes to meet his unsettling gaze; her stare acquiescent, his intrigued.

“Mmm...well isn't this interesting.” He whispered slowly. “Good.” The thick accent and deep growling discarded, as if momentarily forgotten, in favor of a lighter tone. He stood once more. “Now, please.” He asked, sweeping his arm indicating the length of the altar. She held his gaze for a second more before obeying. She pulled her legs up onto the altar and slowly laid herself down on her back as requested.

With a flick of his fingers the five ghouls stepped up to the altar again and began to bind her wrists and ankles with rope, securing them to the marble table through metal loops on the floor. She stoically watched them work without movement or resistance, arms raised above her head and legs spread. The shredded black cloth she had been wearing, now nowhere to be seen.

The five ghouls, work finished, stood around the altar with the skeletal Pope at her head. They all gazed down at her, heady expressions surprisingly evident behind their masks, causing a warm electric shock to shoot through her core and up into her stomach.

“Prepare her.” The Dark Pope growled to the others in a breathy voice. He glanced at her once more, taking in the sight of her splayed naked before him, before he turned and walked away. She could feel every inch his eyes lingered over, as she had every time since he first laid eyes on her in the bar, and she distinctly felt his absence now. Elyse listened to the chanting still rising and falling in the background and could faintly hear the Dark Pope’s lilting, growling voice addressing the crowd.

She looked from masked face to masked face waiting with resignation. _Prepare her? Prepare her for what?_

When the ghouls began to slowly and methodically disrobe she felt heat flood through her. She watched in apprehensive fascination as they peeled off layer after layer of their black robes. A few short minutes later four men and one woman stood around her completely naked with the exception of their silver demon masks. Each had a single symbol deeply scarred into their chests on the sternum.

She calmly tugged on her bindings, absent-mindedly testing them as she watched the ghouls disrobe. She had easy room to move around but her movements were restricted to the stone table. The coarse black rope dug into her wrists more than the cloth bindings had, they were also far more secure.

One of the ghouls, the one with an upright triangle burned deep into his chest, walked slowly around the others. When he reached the head of the table he crouched down behind her and nuzzled his masked face up against hers.

“Remember when I told you not to move. Not to speak. And you decided to do both? Now it's time for your punishment.” He half whispered in her ear. He slowly walked to her left, his blue eyes staring down at her while another ghoul moved to take his place.

Despite herself and the quiet stillness in her chest, she couldn't suppress inhaling sharply as she watched each ghoul grab one of her limbs and pick up their bloodied silver blades.

The ghoul with the Fire symbol pinned her hand down against the stone. Carefully with the tip of his knife he carved an upright triangle - the same as his own - deep into the flesh on the back of her hand. She hissed through her teeth as he worked. Just as he finished his last cut, her right hand was anchored to the altar with considerable force. She rolled her head to find the petite woman with an upside down triangle, the flesh around the symbol still raw and shiny, pinning her arm. The woman stared at her for a long second before turning her attention to cutting her own symbol into Elyse’s right hand.

Elyse took a shuddering breath through her nose as she sliced. As soon as Water removed her blade Elyse raised her head to look expectantly at the small ghoul, an upside down triangle with a horizontal line through it decorated his muscular chest, at her right foot. He watched her impassively, unmoving, as stinging pain laced up her left foot. She gasped in surprise and looked to the impressively tall ghoul bent over her left foot. She could just see his mark, the right-side-up version of the smaller ghoul’s beside him, as he focused on his work. As soon as her eyes focused on the Air ghoul, her right foot bloomed with pain as well. An involuntary whine escaped her throat.

She sunk into the stone table as all four marks were completed. She closed her eyes and breathed against the stinging pain suffusing her limbs. Fingers gently slid through her hair which released a cool wave of goosebumps down over her arms and chest, making her nipples harden in response. As soon as the fingers reached the crown of her head they fisted in her hair and lifted her head from the table. Chin uncomfortably shoved into her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the point of a knife on the nape of her neck. The tip of the blade paused for just a second before it was inserted and began unzipping her skin. She could only vaguely follow the movement of the blade as it moved in a circle followed by a squiggle. As soon as the symbol was complete and blade removed, she felt the warm wet flow down over her shoulders.

Her hair was released as she felt warm lips lightly kiss her right shoulder. The ghoul behind her, Aether, inhaled deeply as his lips trailed up her throat, lapping and nipping until he reached just under her ear. A low moan was breathed against her wet skin before he seemed to pull away, his hand returning to keep her head in place. She opened her eyes as she felt other hands skim across various areas of her body. Water lifted Elyse’s bloody hand to her mask and adjusted it slightly to slide one of her dripping fingers into her mouth, sucking hard and swirling her tongue down the length of her finger. Earth had moved his mask as well and began crudely running his tongue over the wound on her foot and around her ankle just as Air’s hand slowly crept up from her foot towards her inner thigh. She watched as Air released her leg and lifted his red fingers behind his mask.

Fire’s rough fingers grabbed her jaw and held the silver chalice full of blood before her.  
“Blood of the unworthy. Blood of the sacrifice. Drink.” He lifted the cup towards her mouth and she could smell the heavy metallic scent of it. She pursed her lips together fighting back a wave of nausea. The hand holding her hair tightened its grip and tilted her head back as Fire pressed the metal cup to her lips and began to pour, sick of her reluctance. The lukewarm, syrupy blood flowed up against her lips, down her chin, cheeks, and throat. A more insistent tilt of the cup delivered the liquid up into her nose forcing her to give in and open her mouth. Relenting she took a mouthful of the blood and, tasting of pennies, swallowed it down. Fire pulled the cup away from her lips and poured the remaining amount over her torso as her head was lowered back onto the table. Her stomach clenched but she fought and managed not to heave.

Fire swiped a finger over the wound on her left hand, over his symbol, and brought it into his mouth before leaning over her, lifting his mask just enough, and kissed her deeply. His tongue roaming her mouth hungrily. His breath was heavy with licorice and sugar and just the taste of him made her head swim.

She gasped against his mouth as she felt her right nipple painfully tweaked while hands and mouths kissed and caressed her hips and thighs. Lips reappeared on her neck, teeth dragging earnestly against her skin. Heat burned through her as she felt her body stir, responding to the caresses. With a soft moan, she opened her mouth further, her tongue seeking his as she focused on the pleasant sensations. With a slight groan Fire pulled away, licking his lips as he replaced his mask. She opened her eyes and watched as he turned and walked away, sweat glistening over his naked, muscular form.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hold her.” Fire commanded loudly, voice thick with lust. Sensual touches disappeared in an instant as her bindings were pulled as tight they would go and tied off. She could feel her joints protest against the strain. After a moment of waiting the little Water Ghoul, as if bored, moved to place both her hands on Elyse’s feet and, climbing onto the altar as she did, slowly slid her hands up her legs until they came to rest gripping her hips. Water’s eyes met hers briefly before travelling down Elyse’s body, taking in her every curve. She lowered her silver face to Elyse’s stomach, moving the mask up as she did, and tongued her lower abdomen. Wet, sloppy kisses accompanied by the occasional strong, painful nip travelled down her navel, across her hip, to her inner thigh.

The Ghoul paused to inch her mask up further, her warm breath tickling the sensitive skin between Elyse’s thighs, before her mouth descended. Using her hands to pry Elyse’s thighs further apart as much as the restraints would allow, she ran the tip of her tongue agonizingly slow over her tender skin. Elyse moaned and closed her eyes as each pass of the Ghoul’s tongue delved deeper into her until Water was wantonly, thoroughly tasting every inch of her. Elyse tried to roll her hips up into the Ghoul’s mouth but only managed to strain against the rope.

A soft groan, not her own, drew her attention partially away from the Ghoul between her legs. Remembering the three Ghouls that remained by the altar, she looked up to find them watching with obvious interest. Earth and Aether stood close together while Air remained slightly apart near her feet. All three had their hands clasped behind their backs attempting to maintain their impassive postures as before. All three trying, and barely succeeding, to ignore their growing erections. Elyse closed her eyes against the throbbing ache between her legs and the gentle caress of Water’s mouth on her.

Elyse pulled against the ropes and arched her back, pressure building in her core, as Water teased her slowly to the edge. She felt the muscles in her low abdomen begin to tense and she clenched her muscles against the rise. Water pulled back, replacing her mask, and placed a finger on Elyse’s clit and moved in a tight circle around the swollen knob of flesh. Elyse strained her hips, body begging for more contact as she teetered right on the edge.

Water obliged, sliding a finger roughly into her and then a second. Water’s fingers pressed up and dragged firmly against her walls on their way out before being pushed back in. She turned her face against her shoulder and whimpered.

Elyse opened her eyes just in time to see the Fire Ghoul step back up to the altar, staring down at her. Her abdominal and pelvic muscles began to twitch and clamp down as the Water Ghoul continuing to bury her fingers deep inside. Her sighs and quiet moans growing more insistent. Elyse caught a flicker of movement to her left as she squeezed her eyes shut against the orgasm that was threatening to crash down on her.

Right at the crest of her orgasm, just as the first muscle spasm clamped down, Water inexplicably disappeared and Elyse’s chest exploded in a white hot pain. It felt at first like a searing cold that chewed its way up her throat before her body slowly began to recognize it as blistering heat. She could hear the crackling pop as the blood coating her skin and her own flesh beneath it began to bubble. Her eyes flew open with a sharp gasp that sounded more like a shriek. The fire dug its way deep into her chest making it nearly impossible to take a deep enough breath to scream like she desired to do.

She could feel her flesh cling to the iron brand as the Fire Ghoul ripped it away mere seconds after it had kissed her skin. Her throat raw from the bitten-off scream, she writhed against the restraints. Tears streaming down her face, she cried out again as rough fingers applied a slick, cool paste to the blistered skin. The inflamed, stinging wound instantly began to cool to a dull throb. She slumped against the table, sweat slick and feeling as if thorns had replaced her every raw nerve, as she caught her breath. She shivered in the aftershock and choked down a sob. Water, who had perched at the edge of the altar during the branding, finally moved to resume her place in line. Air caught her on her way through, snatching the little Ghoul’s wrist and brought her fingers up behind his mask before releasing her and letting her move past. She continued on to her place next to Aether, hands clasped behind her back.

Elyse lifted her head up to look down at the symbol now burned into her chest. An inverted cross with an incomplete circle around where the two lines met was branded deeply over her heart, the edges blackened and jagged. She collapsed against the table, feeling her heartbeat pounding uncomfortably through every cell in her body.

“It's time.” The Fire Ghoul announced.

The Ghouls took up the chant, their voices merging seamlessly with the rest of the congregation as they turned away from the altar to face the crowd. The four of them maintained the rigid stance with wavering success, skin dripping with sweat and blood, chests heaving with building arousal, fidgeting and clenching against their impatience. Air was the only one that managed to stand stone still with his hands clasped behind his back for any length of time.

Her eyes were drawn back to Fire as he knelt down beside her and retrieved something from just below the altar. When he straightened up he was holding a small glass filled to the brim with a pale emerald liquid. Seeing the glass in his hand and assuming he intended it for her, she obediently opened her mouth. She didn't know what the milky green substance was but she was too exhausted to contemplate fighting against him. Plus absolutely anything would be better than the coppery taste coating her throat making every breath smell bloody.

He placed the rim of the crystalline glass gently against her lips and poured a small portion of the jewelled liquid into her mouth. She was instantly hit with the harsh burn of liquor. Her mouth watered as it filled with the flavor of spicy black licorice. Stronger than most alcohol she was used to, she grimaced against the fire burning its way down her throat. Once down, she inhaled through her mouth and the licorice flavor bloomed through her sinuses with a medicinal aroma, herbal and sugary. It tasted just as his lips had tasted. She stared up into his dark blue eyes as he fed her mouthful after mouthful of the drink. Several swallows later and the glass was empty, the final mouthful oozed into her mouth syrupy sweet and thick with a grainy texture.

He held the empty glass as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Staring down at her for a long moment, eyes travelling over her mottled skin, his free hand jerked out towards her stomach but stopped short of actually touching her. His fingertips hovered there just below her belly button before, seeming to rethink his impulsive action, they curled back into a fist without ever actually touching her. He withdrew his hand with a slight growl under his breath. A mild shock of surprise ran through her as he instead reached down and pumped his previously ignored erection. She wasn't sure why it would shock her. One of the Ghouls had been between her legs and she had watched one suck her juices off of the others fingers, but this somehow seemed more crude, more personal. But why did he hesitate touching her now when he’d been more than happy to do so earlier? It suddenly occurred to her that no one had actually touched her since the branding but she was uncertain what that actually meant if anything.

With another husky growl Fire straightened up and casually tossed the glass over his shoulder. Eyes never leaving her he walked around the altar to join the others, the light tinkling of shattering glass announced his voice into the chant.

The heat from the liquor began to spread a deep languor through her limbs and seep into her bones. She closed her eyes briefly as her head swam and the last of the tension in her body melted away into the table beneath her. The brand throbbed dully in the back of her mind, now easily ignored as she drifted, opening her eyes to search the gloom above. The chiming sound of the voices flowed around her as she mindlessly licked the last sugary remnants of the drink from her lips.

She let herself float on the rise and fall of the chant, which now seemed to be reaching a fevered pitch, as she continued to stare listlessly at the painted ceiling. A thought wandered through her mind that something in the chorus had changed but what that change was evaded her.

A soft flutter tickled its way over her hip and stomach, like a spider unexpectedly scuttling across your skin. As it made its way up her ribs along the curve of her right breast, she squirmed against the urge to brush the sensation away. The feeling solidified in her mind and she turned her head to find the Dark Pope’s eyes travelling across her flesh as he approached.

With swift and practiced movements the Ghouls descended the steps to meet their Dark Pope before the alter. She watched with drowsy interest as they surrounded him and began methodically removing his robes; untying and unbuttoning the various layers before peeling them off of his frame with impersonal ritualistic efficiency. The Dark Pope’s discordant eyes found hers as the Ghoul's went about their work all around him. He held her gaze as he reached up and pulled his skeletal mask off, revealing the face she had known in the bar. A dark, mischievous smirk crept through his features as he watched her drugged reaction. He discarded the mask and allowed the five ghouls to fully strip away the last of his clothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Before the tall ghoul before him could move away now that his task was complete, the Dark Pope reached out and pulled the silver mask from his face and let it fall to the floor. The four other Ghouls froze in tense surprise and Elyse could see the taller ghoul stiffened at the sudden exposure. Before he could react further the Dark Pope wrapped a hand around the older ghoul's neck and pulled him into a fevered kiss. The interaction made it obvious that this hadn't been apart of their original plan. The Dark Pope’s licentious affect on those around him became readily apparent as Air’s initial shock and resistance melted away and he gave in to acting upon mindless lust. Air’s hands roughly grabbed at the Dark Pope’s lithe frame as they pressed up against one another. As soon as Air began to lose himself the Dark Pope broke the kiss and twisted in his embrace. He pressed his back up against Air, who continued his exploration of the smaller man's body as if he hadn't noticed the change in position, and pulled Water and Earth to him. They succumbed willingly, pulling their masks from their flushed faces. Earth knelt down and hungrily took the Dark Pope into his mouth, swallowing him down as his hands roamed across any skin he could find within reach. Water found herself anchored between the two standing men, their mouths devouring her sweat sweet skin between pleasure-induced gasps.

Fire, mask still obscuring his features, watched Elyse as she took in the view. His chest heaved with rising and unspent arousal but he made no move to participate.

Coming up for breath Water reached out to Aether from her precarious position between the three men. Aether crossed in front of Fire to make his way to her when he abruptly grabbed Aether by the shoulder and spun him to face him. Fire slowly stuck two fingers under Aether’s mask and flicked it off of his head, his now exposed face alight with lust-hazy confusion mixed with something akin to fear-tinged hope. Aether slid one hand around the other’s lean hip and raised the other hand towards Fire’s mask. It was stopped halfway to its destination by Fire’s firm grip which forced the hand back down towards his other hip. Aether dug his fingers into Fire’s flesh as he was slowly, roughly forced to his knees. Fire grabbed Aether’s jaw roughly and pushed his previously ignored cock past Aether’s lips and down his throat. Elyse could see Aether gag a little, grip tightening around Fire’s now thrusting hips, as he greedily let Fire use him. Fire’s eyes travelled back to her for a brief moment before Aether took advantage of his momentary lapse of control and hollowed his cheeks around Fire’s cock eliciting a groan from the ghoul.

Heated arousal rushed through Elyse rivaling the liquor’s burn she watched the six of them become a tangle of mouths and limbs. Her eyes travelled over their writhing bodies and the sudden need for touch - and the acute awareness of its absence - was overwhelming.

As if cued by her thoughts the Dark Pope's eyes wandered away from his Ghouls and sought her out. His gaze cut through the drugged languid stupor leaving her watching in anxious fascination as he redirected some of their fervent affections onto the others and extracted himself from the morass of bodies. His absence was barely noted as the five continued to sate the need to have as much contact with the others as possible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait for an update! Here is a little chapter to tide you all over until I finish up the chapter Im currently in the middle of. 
> 
> Sorry for any editing issues! As always, this is the rough draft version. Ill be updating as I go.
> 
> Comments and kudos much appreciated!


	8. All Witchcraft Come From...

  
Once free of the ghouls, he took the last few steps up to the altar slow and purposeful, his gaze determined and serious. The light from the fires glinted off of his pale sweat dampened skin, highlighting every curve of muscle as he moved. She realized the room was much darker than she remembered it being but couldn't puzzled out if it was actually so, or if her pain and absinthe muddled mind made it seem that way.

The Dark Pope crested the final step and hovered near her, silent and calculating. He seemed every bit the stalking predator as he slowly began to circle the altar, taking in the sight of her from every angle. His surprisingly youthful face gave away no emotion as he circled and finally slowed to a stop by her left leg. He lifted his head to look out over the crowded church, the writhing mass of bodies that was now the ghouls and the ever-chanting faceless congregation. A pensive expression flitted across his angular face and was gone. She watched him standing before her unmoving, waiting and anxious. Her eyes traced the scars on his chest, over his heart, that mirrored her own black and blistered wound. The scars looked etched in deep and puckered thick as if there had had been wound inflicted on top of wound until there was more scar tissue than flesh remaining.

After a few contemplative seconds his attention returned back to her. His expression no longer pensive or serious. The sly smirk bloomed across his face and his discordant eyes were blown dark with heady intent. She felt a blush creep through her face as his eyes explored her splayed and exposed before him, feeling the strange crawling sensation of his gaze brush over her breasts, inner thighs, and swollen mound. Something dark and raw in his expression reignited a panic in her stomach just as his closeness made her ache with need; the two emotions warring through her for dominance. A knowing leer blanketed his face as he held her gaze and abruptly grabbed her bare thigh in an impossibly strong grip.

The sensation that lanced up her leg was unlike any she had ever experienced. It crawled across her skin in pinpricks and coiled in her stomach like excitement. It burned away any haze left in her mind from exhaustion or absinthe. His simple touch sent off electric shocks of pleasure more intense than any orgasm she had ever experienced and scorching pain that rivaled the branding through to her every nerve. He didn't give her a second to catch her breath. The raw, shuddering shriek tore up and out of her throat, echoing in the cavernous room above the voices and lecherous moans as he undid the ropes binding her ankles and slid onto the altar with her, kneeling between her legs. He slid his hands around her hips and jerked her slight body down towards him, pulling her arms - still firmly bound - even further above her head into a hyperextended position but she barely felt it as his hands began to greedily explore her body. She could feel his thighs burning beneath her’s. His hands groping his way across her stomach and breasts left tingling trails of heat in their wake. Her muscles clamped down involuntarily against his movements and she couldn't prevent the obscene keening erupting from her throat through shaky, hyperventilating breaths.

After several agonizingly long seconds the razor sharp pain dulled into a numb edge, bleeding into the radiating pleasure that pierced through her stronger with each movement of his hands. Opening her eyes she found him leaning over her stomach intently watching her every reaction with fascination as he slid his hands down her waist before shifting his grip to cup her ass in both rough hands.

A low guttural moan rumbled through his chest as he slowly thrust his hips forward, sliding his erect cock through the slick heat between her legs. She gasped in response and twisted her hands around to grip the rope restraining her and rolled her hips in time with his, mindlessly desperate for more contact.

She watched him squeeze his eyes shut, breathing ragged, and trembling beneath her - momentarily incapacitated with need - as she slowly rocked her hips against him. Lifting up just enough to rock her hips forward over the throbbing head of his cock before sliding back down the length of him, her ass firmly pushing up against his folded legs. After a few torturous strokes against him, each time nearly managing to push him inside her, he growled loudly and gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. Seeming to lose any semblance of control, he pushed her hard off his legs slamming her down onto the marble and crawling onto all fours above her. Grabbing his throbbing cock, he jerked on it hard a couple of times allowing the swollen head to brush against her tender clit before slamming himself into her, balls smacking against her ass. Her back arched involuntarily as her legs anchored around his slim waist. He wasted no time in setting a merciless pace.

One hand braced against the slick marble he slid the other under her sacrum and lifted her hips off the altar to meet his as he continued thrusting into her again and again, pulling out nearly to the tip before pushing back in. The pain of the crushing force against her cervix and the strain on her shoulders and wrists as he pulled her into him with each thrust was outweighed by the near blackout level of pleasure that ripped through her. Her cunt clamped down and spasmed against him with every movement. He bent forward, not pausing in his powerful thrusts into her, and bit down on her right nipple sending a searing jolt of painful pleasure through her abused chest.

She felt his shudder against her and his cock throb inside her. His pace instantly halted and he released his hold on her ass, letting her fall back to the table as he reached down between them and roughly clamped a hand around the base of his cock, cutting off his looming orgasm. After a few seconds of regaining control over himself, he sat up into a kneeling position and unwrapped her legs from around his waist and pushed them up into the air, holding her ankles with one hand. He looked her in the eye as he began to move within her again with agonizingly slow thrusts. Letting her feel every inch of him slide into her, filling her up, and ending with his hot swollen head pushing firmly against her hypersensitive g-spot. Every slow thrust causing her vision to blur and muscles to shake violently enough to threaten his hold.  
“Oh fuck!” Elyse moaned as she arched her back, shoulders grinding into the table, and bit her bottom lip, unsuccessfully stifling a whimper.   
“Oooooh, what was that?” The Dark Pope purred at her, slowing down further so they merely writhed against each other. “Hmmm?” He taunted as he slowly slid a finger into her tight ass.   
“Fuck me! Please fuck me.” She whimpered against her shoulder as he moved his finger in time with his thrusts.

He smiled down at her as she felt a pulsing pressure begin at her core and well up in her stomach. Her muscles clamped powerfully down around him as his quickened his pace. He dropped her legs, replacing them again around his waist but remained kneeling between her thighs as he forcefully pushed her towards orgasm. She closed her eyes and pulled against the ropes, bucking her hips against him as it washed over her with overpowering strength. The only sound ringing in her ears were her own frantic cries.

Her eyes flew open, her gaze on the hazy ceiling, as her next gasp rattled in her chest. Sharp slivers of pain leaked into her lungs as she fought to breathe even as the orgasm continued to throb around the Dark Pope’s hard cock as he continued to slam into her. She looked up at him through the pain and saw a silver blade jutting from her chest at the center of her brand, right through her heart. His fist still gripped the handle as he continued to fuck her, blood pulsing over his knuckles. Each thrust caused his hand to jerk downwards, ripping the wound further into her chest.

Her vision dimmed and blackened as the pain crushed her ability to breathe and finally began to fade. Sound went dead with the exception of a low rumble in her ear like a deep laugh.  
“Welcome sister.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued....
> 
>  
> 
> (Sorry for any editing issues! As always...its a rough draft and I dont have a beta reader so it will be refined as I go.)


	9. Deus in Absentia

“Fuck me! Please fuck me.” The woman begged him softly, grinding against him, yearning for more. He felt a pulse of blood flow into his cock, making her feel even tighter than she already was. Steeling himself against his own threatening release, he readjusted his position above her and gave in to the request. This wasn't for his own pleasure...yet.

He dropped her legs and let them fall back around his hips as he began quickly thrusting his length as deep into her as he could. He closed his eyes, trying to maintain control, feeling the walls of her cunt spasm and throb against him as he moved within her. Opening his eyes he glanced down between them, enjoying the sight of his cock slick with blood, precum, and her own aroused fluid, disappear into her body as he thrusted balls deep within her. She was perfect. He knew from the moment he saw her that she would be the one for this task. He wanted her. He hoped he wasn't wrong.

Before the view could consume him he looked up to her flushed face, refocusing on the task, just in time to feel her first orgasmic spasms wash over him. He picked up his pace, gritting his teeth and trying to focus on anything but cumming as he fucked her over the edge.

Her ice blue eyes closed as her moans transformed to loud cries. Nearly there.

Maintaining his pace he wrapped his free hand around the handle of the silver blade by his knee. One hand gripping her hip, the other the blade, he watched her writhe and pulse under him for a moment more before driving the blade home into the center of the grucifix and her heart below it.

He felt the tip of the blade slide through her skin before striking the edge of bone - a rib. A slight angle adjustment and the sharpened metal sheathed itself easily through hard cartilage, tough soft tissue, and pulsing muscle.

Dark, thick blood pulsed over his hand and poured out over her porcelain skin and his cock hardened further in response. Aching and twitching in her, urging for release, he licked his lips and sped his pace, using the kife’s handle to pull himself harder against her. He felt the blade rip the wound deeper into her cavity as he pushed himself into a near painful pace, savoring the powerful hot tightness of her as her whole body convulsed beneath him. Almost time.

He watched her pale blue eyes open and flicker from pleasure to immense, confused pain, to dull and lifeless. Her body continued to twitch a moment or two longer after her eyes drooped closed before she went completely slack.

He paused. Moving his blood soaked hand down to clamp off another orgasm. His body spasmed slightly but it quickly subsided. Pulling out, he crawled over her body, shivering at the sensation of the head of his cock sliding along her slick firm stomach, and untied her wrists.

Returning to his knees between her legs, balancing precariously on the increasingly slick altar, he pulled her slack body towards him and slowly pumped his hips, sliding the head of his cock through her slick folds before pushing into her again. He maintained a steady pace, pulling the still warm flesh against his thighs as he pulled her onto him. The sharp sound of wet flesh smacking together filled his ears. He didn’t know how long it would take. Didn’t know if it had worked. But he focused on the words of the chant. The rhythmic voices urging him to hold off until it was time. He focused keeping himself teetering right on the edge.

His eyes wandered to his ghouls. He hadn’t originally intended on setting the ghouls off. They certainly hadn’t expected or planned on mindlessly losing themselves, burying themselves in the flesh of any other ghoul near by. He had let his need and expectation of what was to come rule over him and had infected them with it. He had to admit to himself it hadn’t hurt the ritual any, may have even helped, as the girl had seemed to enjoy it and he certainly did. And it wasn't like they weren't used to him. He closed his eyes, steadying his movements, and waited.

After several, agonizingly slow minutes, the body under him began to warm. Slow enough he almost missed it. He made sure his pace didn't falter, every nerve ending screaming for release, as he waited. Despite the body remaining limp and lifeless, head lolling from one side than the other as he pulled her hips onto his throbbing cock over and over with decent force, the heat continued to build within her. A few minutes after the first slight change in temperature the body was nearly too hot to touch, searing his cock every time he buried himself to the hilt. The thick smell of hot blood rolled off of her in waves, overpowering the woodsmoke and incense he had long forgotten.

He reached up, not daring to stop his movements within the body, and ripped the blade from her chest. The knife caught on the same bone, making a sickening snapping noise as he tore it past the obstruction. Blood merely seeped from her unmoving sunken chest with its removal.

Her dark eyelids fluttered. It was time. He dug his fingers into her hips and slammed himself into her with renewed force, holding nothing back. He lifted her slight body off of him, cool air lightly brushing cross his sopping wet cock before he pulled her down onto him again and repeated the process, her body flailing like a ragdoll as he did. A pressure at the base of his spine and in the pit of his stomach began to build. His balls tightening at the expected release. He shuddered and gasped as he moved desperate for more stimulation.

A blisteringly hot hand laid against his chest just as the muscles wrapped around his cock clamped down hard enough to prevent movement. It occurred to him that he had closed his eyes without realizing it and he no longer could hear the chanting...but the roar of the fires was crystal clear.

He slowly opened his eyes to be met with another pair staring back at him. The eyes were a deep inky black around the edges near the skin and slowly faded into a dusty grey, swirling and fading into a stark white pupil. The remnants of her dark eyeshadow made the unsettling eyes seem larger and deeper in the pallid face then they really were. Her white hair was streaked with blood and framed her face like a wild mane.

She had rose up off of the altar, legs hooked firmly around his hips and had an arm slung over his neck so they were face to face. Torso to torso as he knelt on the stone table. Her face was expressionless as those eyes stared deep into his. He didn’t have to look to know the entire clergy and congregation were watching, their previous tasks forgotten now they had been successful in doing their part. Now it was his turn. Staring into those eyes; terror, reverence, and lust swelled within his chest, mixing in a confusing flurry of pure devotion that buzzed in his head.

“Fuck me, Papa. Cum for me.” She commanded, her voice far huskier and silkier than the girl’s had been. Instantly her cunt clamped down harder on him as she slowly pulled off, hovering over his dark red head for a moment before she slammed herself back down onto him. His mind went blank, replaced by pure white ecstasy. Wrapping his arms around her middle he mirrored her movements and shook under her as the pressure in his groin began to increase until it finally exploded through him with blinding, earsplitting force. In pulsing spurts he felt his cum coat her insides as she continued to milk him through his orgasm, pushing him into hypersensitivity.

The power of it rent him in half; his body felt spent and languid, hallowed to a husk. She released her hold on him, letting him slump heavily onto the marble in a heap, as she slid off the table to stand before the church.

The last thing that rang in his ears before exhaustion took him was the loud, simultaneous cry from the congregation.

“Hail Satan!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this story and has stuck with it right up to the end. Your kudos and feedback and kind comments have been - and always will be - greatly appreciated!!


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